


A Different Kind of Fun

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Eventual Smut, F/M, Inspired by Music, Music, Musicians, Past Relationship(s), Performing Arts, Swanfire - Freeform, milian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: Emma Swan felt like she finally had her life together, or at least well on its way. A little over five months ago, she’d kicked her dead beat, philandering boyfriend to the curb and moved in with great friends who supported and encouraged her to follow her dreams. Dreams that included landing a great role on stage, finally putting that theatre arts degree to good use. Now, she was living the dream. Making money as an artist, doing what she loved, and loving life - at least that's what she tells herself. When Killian Jones, front man of a new local band, saunters into her life, he brings with him a different kind of fun. The night of her 26th birthday is when it all begins.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 25
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

Emma took one last look in the restroom mirror before she headed back out into the bar. She had to admit; she looked good, damn good. Surprisingly, she felt as good as she looked.

At twenty-six (today), Emma Swan felt like she finally had her life together, or at least well on its way. A little over five months ago, she’d kicked her dead beat, philandering boyfriend to the curb and moved in with great friends who supported and encouraged her to follow her dreams. Dreams that included landing a great role on stage, finally putting that theatre arts degree to good use.

Her roommates, Elsa and Anna Dell, as well as her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, had been relentless in their encouragement and belief that she had what it took to make her dreams come true, which led to her having the confidence to go on that audition in the first place. An audition that landed her a great role in a new and instantly successful show in an illustrious theatre troupe. Now, she was living the dream. Making money as an artist, and doing what she loved with people she loved and who loved her back.

It felt so good to finally be in a place in her life where she felt she belonged. Emma Swan never thought she’d have that. Growing up for most of her childhood in foster care, she was thankful that the Nolans had taken her in long-term in her teens. However, even though she had experienced a permanency with them, and still had a strong bond with her foster brother, David, it hadn’t been home. Not really. She wasn’t even sure what home felt like. Probably a place that was comfortable and safe; a place that when you left it you’d just… miss it.

The closest she ever felt to anything like that was when she was on the stage. Maybe that’s because she didn’t have to be herself. She could hide behind another persona, using it like protective armor while pretending to be someone else. That armor got her through high school and then college, but it wasn’t until she had met her roommate, Elsa, that she realized the stage wasn’t really a home. It was a citadel. A place she had, indeed, been hiding.

Elsa was a kindred spirit. Having lost her parents at a young age, she understood walling yourself up behind fortified facades. While Emma had hid behind her characters, Elsa had hid herself behind an icy exterior. Together, with the help of Anna, David, and Mary Margaret, they had worked to free themselves of their armor. Emma wasn’t completely there yet, but she’d never been in a better place.

She couldn’t remember ever celebrating a birthday where she felt only promise and hope for her future. She had great friends, a great place to live, and an amazing job in a role that highlighted her acting, singing and dancing. Her performances so far had garnered terrific reviews, not only for herself, but the entire cast and crew. It was looking like this could be her big break.

Plus, the role had gotten her back into shape. A shape she was showing off tonight in her new smokin’ hot, red dress. Exposing a tantalizing amount of cleavage and a whole lot of leg, the outfit, which had been picked out by another good friend, Ruby, made her feel like she could stop traffic. Which is exactly how one should feel on their birthday, right?

With one last look, she shook out her long, blonde hair and swept it behind her shoulders, allowing it to cascade freely down her back. Exiting the restroom, she headed toward the corner booth in the back where she left her friends to tab out. Per usual, there was a line by the bar as patrons waited for a table to open up, an every man for himself endeavor most nights.

Speaking of men.

Entrenched in the mob of waiting hopefuls were three delicious looking specimens, each dressed in black leather jackets and indecently tight jeans. They scanned the room as they decided whether or not to cut their losses and go elsewhere, or wait it out. Emma had never seen them before, and she knew pretty much everyone who frequented Wonderland bar.

The first man was the fairest of the three, with lighter hair that was nearly parted down the middle and swept to one side. He had the beginnings of a beard, and Emma noticed as he removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, he also sported a medieval style lion tattoo on his forearm.

The second man was much shorter than the first, with darker hair that was buzz cut. With thick brows and a clean shaven face, he had an air of mischief about him that made Emma smile. _He’s the troublemaker of the group_ , she thought to herself with a laugh.

The final man, though. _Oh, boy_. Talk about trouble. Not quite as tall as the first man, he was all smolder with a dash of danger. Thick, nearly raven colored hair fell across his forehead. He attempted to sweep it back off his face, causing the already mussed mane to become even more attractively tousled. His thick, expressive brows and chiseled jaw, dusted with a light scruff and ticking ever so slightly, exposed his impatience with their current predicament.

He turned in her direction to scan the other side of the bar and she was able to appreciate the luscious amount of chest hair displayed by the open collar and several undone buttons of his shirt. Refocusing her attention to his face again, now being able to appreciate him full on instead of profile, made her gasp.

_Holy shit, those eyes! Those can’t be natural, right?_

Vivid blue and lined with a generous amount of eyeliner, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his eyes. Emma Swan did not swoon, but there’s a first time for everything, right?

A moment later, those forget-me-not eyes met hers and she was rooted to her spot as she watched them scan her appreciatively from top to bottom, sending a swell of heat through her. Meeting her eyes a second time after his intense perusal, he popped an eyebrow and sent her a sinfully inviting grin that made her skin tingle.

He might have knocked her off kilter, but Emma was not about to allow him the upper hand in this silent, seduction stare off they had found themselves in. Tossing her blonde curls once more over her shoulder, she approached the trio with a bright smile and a little more sway in her hips than usual.

“Hey, there,” she greeted Lion Tattoo Guy. “If you guys are wanting a table, my friends and I are about to leave. You can come snag ours.”

She caught a brief flash of disappointment on Hot Guyliner’s face before turning and leading the appreciative group to the back of the bar.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret called out, putting her jacket on as she and Elsa stood from the booth. “August said you had to tab out at the bar.”

“Of course he did,” Emma muttered, knowing very well what August, co-owner and bartender of Wonderland, was up to.

“Do you want us to wait on you?”

Emma pulled her friends to the side so the gentlemen she’d escorted back could claim the booth before anyone else pounced on it. “No, it’s fine,” she waved off. “I’ll have Graham see me home. You both have early days tomorrow, you should go.”

Emma accepted a kiss on the cheek from both of her friends and watched them head out before turning back to the booth, now being cleaned off for the three men sitting there.

“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”

A deep chorus of thank yous followed her when she turned to head towards the bar, and she had to fight the compulsion to look over her shoulder to see if a certain pair of blue eyes were watching her depart.

“Ah! The birthday girl!” August announced a little louder than necessary. “You didn’t really think we’d let you leave without a song first, did you?”

It was tradition at Wonderland to sing for the patrons on one’s birthday. The bar was known as a place where performers hung out, to the point where every night was something of an open mic night, with a karaoke mic and screen at the ready on stage.

A binder was dropped on the bar in front of her with a loud thud as it’s deliverer slid onto a barstool. “You know the drill,” Jefferson, Wonderland’s other owner, quipped, giving her an expectant look.

Emma sighed and began flipping through the list of songs, becoming slightly distracted when Ruby came up to put in the order for the corner booth. Glancing over her shoulder, Emma’s teeth sank into her bottom lip while she looked Hot Guyliner over as he conversed with his friends. A song choice began to form in her mind and she turned back to the binder to make sure it was an option.

“This one,” Emma stated, pointing to her selection.

Jefferson pulled the binder back towards him. “Nice choice,” he said, smiling at her as he stood. “I’ll go get it queued up.”

Wetting her lips, Emma took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of her dress before turning to face the stage. Jefferson gave her a nod, then began his intro as she made her way up the steps.

“Ladies and Gents!” he announced. “Tonight, Wonderland is proud to celebrate a very special event with a very special lady. Give it up for our very own Emma Swan, who has turned the ripe old age of twenty-six today!” Jefferson’s chuckle crackled over the mic after Emma smacked him on the shoulder. “As is tradition, Miss Swan will now grace us with her fantastic voice, singing Kelly Clarkson’s _Heartbeat Song_!”

Applause and a few enthusiastic whistles rang out as Emma dove into the song, feeding off the enthusiasm of the crowd while flicking her eyes to the corner booth during a few key lyrics.

_“You, where the hell did you come from?_

_You're a different, different kind of fun_

_And I'm so used to feeling numb.”_

Hot Guyliner grinned, his smoldering eyes tracking her when she made her way down the stage steps to interact with the crowd.

_“I, I wasn't even gonna go out_

_But I never would have had a doubt_

_If I’d have known where I'd be now”_

Spying one of her cast mates, Emma slinked onto his lap and mussed his hair, all the while keeping her eyes trained over his head at the blue gaze blazing back at her.

_“Your hands on my hips_

_And my kiss on your lips_

_Oh, I could do this for a lifetime”_

_“This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it_

_Been so long I forgot how to turn it up up up up all night long_

_Oh, up, up all night long_

_This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it_

_Turned it on_

_But I know you can take it up, up, up, up all night long_

_Oh, up, up all night long.”_

The crowd continued to cheer and started to sing along as Emma got up and worked the room, letting her sultry movements perform the remaining stanzas with as much emphasis as her voice. By the time she made her way back up on stage, most of her friends and bar regulars were on their feet ready to shower her with accolades when the song finally ended. Her eyes flickered once more to the corner booth and a smirk pulled at her lips when she found Hot Guyliner and his buddies on their feet applauding her as well.

“Marry me, Emma!” August called out from behind the bar as the applause began to die down. Emma rolled her eyes at him.

“That’s not a real proposal, August,” she called back, before replacing the microphone back on the stand and putting a hand on her hip as she waited for the expected rebuttal.

“Sure it is,” he argued with mocked offense, lifting his hands over his heart as if her words had wounded him.

“Nuh-uh. Do you have a ring?”

He shook his head no as he shrugged his shoulders.

“No ring. No proposal,” she declared into the microphone, getting agreements from the ladies in the crowd.

“I never would have guessed you were the shallow type,” August baited with a teasing smile as he once again began to pour drinks.

“It isn’t about being shallow,” she countered. “It’s about knowing he’s got skin in the game. A proposal without a ring is just lip service,” she explained with a mocked seriousness.Then, throwing him a seductive stare while licking her lips, she added, “Usually to _get_ lip service.”

This amassed a round of laughter and wolf whistles from the crowd. With a smirk and a cocked eyebrow pointed at August, Emma exited the stage and made her way toward the bar.

“Game, set, match,” August surrendered with a laugh as she settled herself against the bar ready to pay her tab now that tradition had been satisfied.

She laughed back at him, but paused as he slid another vodka martini (extra dirty) across the bar toward her.

“What’s this?” she asked. “I’ve never known you to throw in a free drink on a person’s birthday before.”

“This isn’t from me,” he said with a sly grin. “It’s from your new friends in the corner booth.”

Emma looked back over her shoulder and saw the three ridiculously attractive men she had offered the table to each raise their glasses at her in salute. The middle one - Hot Guyliner - gave her a wink.

Turning back to August, she bit down on her lip to hide her self-satisfied smile, and possibly a bit of a blush, and said, “Well, I guess it would be rude to not go over there and thank them.”

August threw her a knowing look. “Oh, yes,” he agreed. “Make sure you thank them… _properly_.”

Emma reached over the bar to punch him on the shoulder - good naturedly of course. Picking up her drink and taking a sip, she made her way between the tables and the crowd, taking a few deep breaths to calm the nerves that started to bubble up into her chest along the way.

She’d just thank them, drink her drink and go. Okay, and maybe flirt with incredibly Hot Guyliner a bit more, too.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looked at each man with a sly smile before asking, “So, to whom do I owe my thanks?” Fixing her gaze on Hot Guyliner she added teasingly, “Or did you each pool your resources and chip in together?”

She placed a hand on her hip, drawing his eye there, while she took a sip of the drink and raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner. She only broke her focus on Guyliner to turn her attention toward the man who spoke up to answer her question.

“Well, we felt it was only right, as it is your birthday, to buy you a drink as thanks for the table, as well as a fantastic performance,” the closest man said, the one with the lion tattoo on his forearm.

“Aye,” the far man, Buzz Cut of Trouble, agreed, in a distinct British accent. They both had rather distinct British accents, Emma realized. “Mind you, we had to compete for the honor of who would actually get to buy it for ya, and wouldn’t you know it, this lucky sod was the victor,” he said pointing to the man next to him. Hot Guyliner.

Leveling her eyes with his, Emma offered her thanks with a coy smile.

“You’re welcome, lass,” he answered with a deep, lilting, accented voice that sent her pulse racing. “Although, if you’d care to join us, I’m sure you’d get a second and third round out of these two,” he added with a raised eyebrow and challenging smirk on his lips.

Emma shook her head and let out a small chuckle. “Well, now that’s just not fair,” she stated accusingly as she took another sip of her drink.

“What’s not fair?” Lion Tattoo asked.

“Um, well. You’re all hot. You all wear leather _really_ well. You rock some sexy guyliner,” she said pointing at Guyliner, “and you’re all British. How is a girl supposed to resist all that?” She couldn’t help the laughing grin that came over her as she took in their reactions. A mixture of shy amusement and cocky bravado.

“She shouldn’t,” said Buzz Cut of Trouble with mocked pity in his tone and expression.

“Have a seat, love,” Hot Guyliner invited as they shifted their positions around the booth to make room for her on the end.

She slid in next to Lion Tattoo, but kept her gaze on Hot Guyliner who kept his eyes on her. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m Emma.”

“Oh, we know,” Lion Tattoo chuckled. “You seem to be something of a celebrity in this establishment.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat up, but gave his comment a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I guess you could call me a regular. Don’t think I’ve seen any of you here before, though.”

“S’our first time here,” Buzz Cut answered. “M’names Will. Will Scarlet. And these are me band mates, Robin Locksley,” he gestured to Lion Tattoo Guy who gave her a polite nod of his head, “and--”

“Killian Jones,” Hot Guyliner said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “At your service, love.” He brushed a kiss along the backs of her knuckles. The softness of his lips combined with the callouses she could feel on his fingertips caused an eruption to make its way up her arm, lifting the fine hairs in an evident ripple of gooseflesh. One that caused his eyes to narrow as he watched the progression, a smirk just this side of smug teasing his lips.

Emma pulled her hand away and wrapped it back around her glass. “Of course you’re in a band,” she quipped with her eyes still locked on Hot Guyliner, stirring her martini with the olive laden toothpick before bringing it up to suck one of the briny garnishes into her mouth, internally preening at the darkening stare Hot Guyliner, _Killian_ , was now giving her.

Robin cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to the rest of the table. “We’ve just arrived in town for a series of gigs we have lined up in various venues.” He cast a look over towards the bar then back at her with a note of hopeful inquiry in his eyes. “We were hoping to speak to the owner of Wonderland to see if a booking here would be possible. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to assist us with an introduction?”

“I’m sure I could manage that for you,” Emma agreed before polishing off the rest of her martini then shaking the glass intently in his direction. “For a price.”

Robin laughed. “Lead the way,” he said, ushering her from the booth and towards the bar.

After making the introductions between Robin and August, Emma took her fresh martini and headed back towards the corner booth. Which was now another man shy.

“Will went to see if he could lay claim to one of the pool tables for him and Rob,” Killian answered the unspoken questions he must have deduced from her expression then patted the seat next to him, inviting her to take the absent man’s place.

“You don’t play?” Emma asked, sliding into the booth next to him.

“I do. But I find I’m quite content sitting here for now. With you.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip to try and stop the ridiculous grin that threatened to overtake her face. Lazily, she stirred figure eights in her glass with the toothpick and drew in a deep breath to help calm the nerves the man managed to spike within her.

“So, what instrument do you play in this band of yours?”

“Guitar,” he replied before taking a long pull from the tumbler he’d been turning in his hand. “And I sing as well.”

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” Emma advised with a small laugh. “Or they won’t let you leave until you’ve gotten up on that stage.”

“With any luck, Rob will manage to get us a proper gig on that stage and they’ll all hear me then.”

Emma coyly turned her attention back to her martini. “And if someone wanted to hear you perform at one of the gigs you already have scheduled?”

“Then they could do so 11 p.m.Thursday night at The Poison Apple,” Killian answered.

 _Damn_ , Emma thought, disappointed. He must have picked up on her displeasure, prompting him to ask, “You already have plans, I take it?”

“Yeah. I’m in a show at the Misthaven Theatre. We don’t usually get done with curtain call until eleven.”

He looked as though he was about to respond when Will’s cockney accent bellowed from across the bar. “Oi, Jones! Another table’s free! You want it?”

Killian looked at her with hopeful anticipation in his raised brows and asked, “Care to join me in a friendly game of pool?”

“I’m not much of a player,” she confessed. “I do better with darts.”

“I’ll make you a deal then,” he said, scooting closer along the cushion and placing his arm on the seat back behind her. “You allow me to show off my great prowess in handling a lengthy stick and some balls, then I’ll take great delight in watching your mastery over tiny pricked shafts and a board.”

Even if he hadn’t punctated his words with a ridiculous swagger of his brow, Emma still would have erupted in laughter. “Oh, my God!” she cackled, enjoying the deep chuckle emanating from him as he joined in her amusement. “Only if you promise to not be Captain Innuendo the entire game.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, love,” he said with a roguish expression. “It’s sort of second nature to me.”

“Good thing you’re pretty then,” she quipped, exiting the booth and heading towards the pool tables without looking back. It wasn’t as if there was any question as to whether or not he’d follow.

Emma offered to rack while Killian chose a cue from the wall. Once he found one to his liking, he removed his leather jacket revealing a dark blue button up and black vest beneath. She watched, slightly mesmerized, as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves to just below his elbows. Dark swaths of hair, like that at his chest, ran down his forearms and dusted the backs of his wrists. In addition to the numerous rings adorning his fingers, he also wore a chain around his neck. Bending over the table to line up his shot had caused the charm laden necklace to escape the confines of his shirt collar. Emma had been so fixated on trying to make out what the pendants were, that the crack of the cue ball breaking against the other balls made her jolt.

“Your shot, love.”

A few more patrons made their way to the stage to entertain the crowd and she and Killian took turns trying to sink their balls, as well as making not so veiled references of a suggestive nature to one another while checking out the other’s assets when awaiting their turn. Emma glanced over her shoulder to where Killian was leaned up against a tall cafe table, swirling his rum as his eyes roamed over the expanse of her legs. His eyes quickly darted to hers after making their way back up and appreciating her ass. Instead of showing any hint of chagrin, he hitched his brows in time with a shrug as if to say, _can you blame me?_ then took a sip of his rum. Shaking her head, she suppressed a laugh and took her shot, once again failing to pocket her ball.

“I could give you some pointers if you’d like,” Killian offered when she stepped back from the table to give him room for his shot.

“Is that a legitimate offer, or an excuse to press your body against mine with your arms wrapped around me?” she challenged playfully, coming to stand before him, braced against her pool cue.

He took a step forward, all but eliminating the space she’d left between them. “Can’t it be both?”

Pulse kicking into overdrive, Emma wet her lips which drew his attention down to her mouth. Her breath hitched when he started to lean in and she was about to meet him halfway when a brash voice called her out from the stage.

“Yeah, Emma! Get it girl!” Ruby cheered into the microphone, causing the whole bar to stare in her and Killian’s direction.

Emma looked up at Killian who had a wash of pink blooming at his cheeks and heating the tips of his ears. The same pink she was sure her complexion was sporting. They both smiled and gave a small huff of amusement, acknowledging the moment was over but hoping it might come around again.

“Get bent, Ruby,” Emma threw back, stepping aside and letting Killian make his way past her to take his shot.

The crowd turned their attention back to the stage and Ruby started the song she’d gotten up to sing in the first place. When the first few notes began Emma groaned.

“What’s the matter, love? Not a Kesha fan?”

“No, it isn’t that,” Emma told him. “It’s just that this particular song performed by Ruby, somehow has the power to make people lose their inhibitions.” Killian gave her a perplexed look. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

Emma watched Killian as he watched Ruby work the room, enticing people to strip off articles of clothing as she practically commanded the lyrics.

_There's a place I know if you're looking for a show_

_Where they go hardcore and there's glitter on the floor_

_And they turn me on when they take it off, when they take it off, everybody take it off_

Not at all surprised when her friend made a beeline for Killian, Emma rolled her eyes and grabbed her cue, leaving him to fend for himself before Ruby moved on to Robin and Will at the next table. Singing along under her breath, Emma walked around to the far side of the pool table and lined up her shot. She had just mouthed the lyrics ‘ _take it off’_ when she felt someone tug on the zipper of her dress, causing it to pull down and expose her back. Dropping her pool cue, she grasped at the front of her dress, holding it in place as she whirled around and saw Ruby walking away, still singing while glancing back with wide, _oh, my god,_ apology eyes.

“Dammit, Ruby!” Emma shouted as she tried to keep her back to the wall and the front of her dress held firmly in place. Fearing she may have already flashed an eye full, she looked across to the other table Will and Robin were occupying and laughed at their red faces craned up towards the ceiling, attempting to be gentlemen.

Still clasping the front of her dress in place, she reached around to try and zip her dress back up when she felt Killian step up behind her. Placing a hand on her hip, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear, “Allow me, love,” and began pulling the zipper slowly back up into place.

His breath on her neck and the press of his hand through the fabric of her dress at her hip sent a rush of heat through her entire body. A pleasant, torturous, tingling sensation settled behind the peaks of her breasts and had her throbbing between her thighs as a shiver went through her.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him and found herself only an inch or so from his face. The look in his eyes made her breath catch. Dark and storming with a hunger and desire for her, she nearly forgot everything and everyone around her. She wanted to tell him to leave the zipper and just take the damn dress off her already. It was the reaction of the bar’s patrons applauding the end of Ruby’s performance that brought her back to herself.

With a sly smile she licked her lips and teased, “I bet zipping a woman _into_ her dress isn’t something you expect to do when you go out for the night, huh?”

He laughed at that. A sincere, open laugh, that made his eyes crinkle and a delectable dimple appear at his cheek. Her heart skipped and she felt a swoop in her stomach. The mischievous and flirtatious twinkle was back in his eyes, softening (but not diminishing) the hardened desire she had caught there moments ago.

“Not typically, no,” he answered with a chuckle still lacing his voice, “but what sort of gentleman would I be to leave a lady in such an exposed state?” Zipper back in place, his hand remained on her hip, his thumb pressing slow circles over the fabric of her dress.

“Gentleman, huh?” she questioned in an unconvinced tone as she turned her face away from him. Looking forward once more, she pretended to watch Will and Robin take their shots.

“Aye,” he answered, his lips still hovering next to her ear. His breath still warm across her neck. “I’m always a gentleman,” he whispered softly into her ear, sending another shiver up her spine.

“That’s too bad,” she taunted as she stepped out of his grasp and walked over to the tall cafe table to grab his drink. She turned back to face him and gave him a suggestive look over the rim of the glass as she took a long sip of the amber liquid.

“Emma! Oh, my God, I am _so_ sorry!” Ruby apologized as she rushed over after placing the mic back on the stand.

“It’s fine, Rubes,” Emma waved off. “Just give me half the tips you’ll get from my added bit of the show, and we’ll call it good.”

Ruby gave her a relieved look, but it soon turned sour. “I didn’t just come over here to say I’m sorry,” she confessed. “I came to warn you. Walsh is here.”


	2. Chapter 2

Killian nursed his drink, a firm grip on his glass as he watched some wanker unable to take no for an answer, schmooze the woman whose company Killian had been enjoying all night. Emma Swan was nothing short of a marvel. Beautiful, talented, witty, and sexy as hell; the kind of woman most men could only dream of being blessed by their attentions, and she had given hers to him.

Only, now some sodding git was attempting to steal them away with a smarmy smile and ridiculous pick up lines.

Swan’s friend, Ruby, the waitress who had inadvertently undressed Emma during a performance of _Take it Off_ (a wardrobe malfunction for which Killian was tempted to tip the woman handsomely, good form be damned), had informed Killian and his mates that this Walsh character had been pursuing Emma for going on six weeks now. It had all begun with a wager over darts; should she win, he’d pay her a dollar a point, but if he won, she had to go on a date with him. So far, Emma had won every game. 

The man was nothing if not persistent, though. Approaching Swan with yet another challenge, her refusal was falling on deaf ears, despite the fact that Killian was standing right there clearly waiting to finish up the game of pool they were already in the middle of. A fact he couldn’t help but snark over the rim of his glass.

“Bad form to push in while the lady is otherwise engaged, mate.”

“I don’t believe I was talking to you, _mate_ ,” Walsh sniped back.

Emma rolled her eyes at their posturing display then plucked the dart Walsh had been holding out towards her from his hand. “Tell you what, Walsh,” she began with a coy smirk on her beautifully painted lips. “We’ll each throw _one_ dart. If you win, I’ll leave with you right now.” She provocatively ran the back of the dart down Walsh’s chest and Killian’s jaw clenched at the thought. “But if I win,” she took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her chin while giving him a stern look to emphasize her words, “you stop pursuing me. No more dart games, no more asking me out. You leave and let me get back to my night in peace. Deal?”

A sickening smile stretched over Walsh’s lips after he’d taken the time to swipe his tongue across them. “Deal.”

Emma handed the dart back to Walsh. “You first,” she offered, stepping back as he lined himself up to the board. 

Killian held his breath then released a silent curse when the man’s aim hit the green outer ring of the bull’s eye. His triumphant whooping reminded Killian of a howler monkey, further cementing his disdain for the odious man.

“Nice shot,” Emma praised graciously, stepping up to the line while Walsh retrieved the dart.

When she reached out to take it from him, he grasped her wrist and pulled her in close. Killian slammed his drink down onto the table beside him and started forward only to have Robin grab him by the arm, halting him from giving the wanker the thrashing he deserved. Emma wriggled out of Walsh’s grasp, a tight smile on her lips in response to whatever it was the man had whispered into her ear. After making sure her challenger was an appropriate distance away, she looked over her other shoulder and shot Killian a wink before squaring off her shoulders, shaking out her golden curls, and lining up her shot. 

Killian didn’t even need to look to see where her dart had landed, the mottled purple of Walsh’s face spoke volumes. Still, his eyes flicked to the dartboard and a wide grin broke across his own face at the sight of the precisely struck bullseye. This time, when Walsh reached out to paw at Emma, who was retreating back towards the pool table, Killian would not be deterred.

Stepping between them, he gave the man a rough shove, forcing him to release Emma’s arm. “You’ve been bested, mate. I believe the agreement was for you to leave, so we can resume the game you so rudely interrupted.”

Walsh stepped up, bringing himself toe-to-toe with Killian. He had to give it to the man, despite the height he had on Walsh, the man didn’t back down. “ _You’re_ the one interrupting,” Walsh seethed. “Emma and I have history. Who do you think you are coming in here like you own the place? This is _my_ house.” 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Emma cut in. “No one likes a sore loser, Walsh. Go lick your wounds and jerk off somewhere else, because we are done here.” Brushing her hand lightly against Killian's shoulder, she whispered her intention to visit the ladies room and assured him she’d be back. 

Killian’s gaze followed her as she went while he blocked Walsh from going after her. Watching her maneuver through the throng of bar patrons Killian marveled, and not for the first time that evening, that Emma Swan was quite a woman.

“She’s not going home with you, you know,” Walsh declared with contempt etching itself across his entire face as he snapped Killian’s attention back towards him.

“Is that so?” Killian replied. His eyebrows raised with a cool, if not slightly challenging, expression fixed upon his features as he withdrew to pick up his drink from the nearby table. Drawing a long sip from his glass, he considered the man before him with disdain, but projected an air of indifference.

“Yeah, that’s so,” Walsh continued, “I’ve spent the last six weeks and almost $1200 in lost dart games pursuing Emma, and I’m not going to get cock blocked by some pretty boy Brit who wears eyeliner. You want a chance to make a run at her for a notch on your bed? Then get in line, buddy.”

Killian’s expression darkened and his eyes narrowed at the man’s crass words. “If all you see when you look at Emma is some sort of conquest, then you’re an even bigger arse than I thought.” 

Once again, Walsh stepped up, nearly bumping his chest against Killian’s as he challenged, “Maybe we should take this outside then?”

Killian snorted into his drink. “Sure, mate,” he scoffed dismissively. “You go on and wait for me. I’ll be along as soon as Emma and I have finished.”

Before Walsh could manage a response, the bar’s co-owner, Jefferson - he remembered Swan mentioning to Robin - bounded up to them, clapping Walsh on the back. “Oz! Good to see you, buddy! Have you had a drink yet? I think August has one ready for you at the bar.” Having clearly noted the potential powder keg of two men squaring off with one another in the middle of his establishment, Jefferson steered Walsh away from Killian and over to where a pint was awaiting him at the counter.

“Forget him,” Robin said from just behind Killian’s shoulder. He knew his balled fists and flicking jaw muscle had not escaped his best mate’s notice. “The git isn’t worth breaking your hand over. Especially with the prospect of that tour gig on the horizon.” Killian gave him a curt nod; one that made Robin sigh in understanding. “Go. Get some air. I’ll tell Emma where you’ve gone once she’s back.”

Loathe as he was to be absent when Swan returned, Killian knew himself. He’d always had a volatile temper, and the alcohol pleasantly humming in his system wouldn’t help matters if Walsh continued to be a prat. He grabbed his jacket and gave his friend a look of acquiescence before maneuvering his way through the crowd. The chill of the night air hit his face when he emerged from the exit. Filling his lungs with its bite helped to calm him and he took a moment to lean against the bricks of the building’s facade with one foot propped up while he kept his hands warm in his jacket pockets and his eyes closed so he could tune out the world around him.

The murmur of voices from within grew louder as the door swung open. Killian exhaled, expecting to find Walsh exiting, but was instead met with the welcomed sight of Emma.

“Hey,” she said softly, “Robin told me you’d come out for some air.” 

She ran her hands up and down her bare arms, prompting Killian to push himself off the wall so he could remove his jacket for her use. “Thanks.” The leather swallowed her when she threaded her arms into the sleeves, and she pulled the material around her to ward off the chill. “So,” she began tentatively, licking at her lips and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “I think it’s time I head for home.”

“You’re not driving, are you?” She didn’t seem tipsy, but Killian knew she’d had her fair share of drinks over the course of the evening.

“No. I, uh… I live within walking distance.”

“Then, please, allow me to escort you home?” Arm held out for her, he settled a devilishly handsome smile over his face; one he hoped she wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I was hoping you would,” she replied with a smile of her own before snaking her arm into the crook of his. 

“So, tell me,” Emma said after a few quiet moments into their walk. “How does a British gentleman, such as yourself, end up playing dive bars in Storybrooke?”

“Our manager, Regina,” Killian answered. “She owns The Poison Apple, where we’re playing Thursday night.”

“I know Regina,” she informed him. “She manages a few of my cast mates in the show. How do you know her?”

“I met her when I was here during my university days. Came over with the semester abroad program my Junior year and was a part of the Storybrooke U Championship sailing team. I stayed through graduation before returning to England. She and I had a few classes together, and kept in touch over the years. When she came to the UK a year ago she saw the boys and I play. Offered to manage us and get us a foothold here in the U.S.” He shot her a devious look and added, “Plus, Robin had gone sweet on her and, even though she plays it cool, the feeling is mutual.” Emma laughed at that; a light, airy sound he knew he’d never tire of hearing. “So, here we are. She’s got us a few gigs lined up, but our real purpose for being here is an audition for a potential touring opportunity.”

“A tour?” Emma stopped suddenly and stared, slightly slacked jawed at him. For a moment Killian worried he might have ruined whatever chance he had of seeing her again, confessing that he may not be around for long, but then her expression changed to one tinged with more excitement than disappointment as she exclaimed, “That’s incredible! With who?”

Killian reached up and scratched at the pricking patch behind his ear and gave her an apologetic look. “I’m not really supposed to say.”

“Oh! Of course.” Emma waved off the awkwardness he felt in not being to answer and propelled them forward once more. “I get it. Non-disclosures and all that. It’s very exciting, though.” She looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye, and said, “I guess your band must be good,” as if she’d spent the entirety of the evening thinking otherwise.

“Aye,” Killian replied, noting how her pace had slowed now that they’d turned up the walkway to what he presumed was her home. “Too bad your own success as a performer will keep you from witnessing just how good Thursday night.”

Emma hummed at that, stepping up to her front door before turning towards him with a hesitant expression on her face. “I, um… I’d invite you in for coffee or something, but--”

“But you have housemates who are sleeping, and,” he took her hands in his, threading their fingers together and rubbing the backs of her knuckles with the pads of his thumbs, “doing so might make me think you’re only interested in a one time thing?”

Her eyes snapped up to his, an amusedly bewildered pinch at her brows. “How did you…”

Killian shrugged and gave her one of his rakish smirks. “You’re something of an open book.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” she challenged, taking a step towards him and craning her neck to keep her gaze fixed with his. “And what else is this _open book_ telling you?”

His tongue briefly pressed against the back of his teeth before sweeping across his lips, drawing her eyes to the motion and confirming what his instincts were telling him. “That even though you can’t invite me in, you wouldn’t be opposed to a goodnight kiss?”

“Your perception abilities are rather impressive,” she teased, coyly looking up at him through his lashes.

“Wait until you experience my other impressive abilities,” he cheeked.

Grabbing on to the edges of his vest, Emma pulled him to her, crashing their lips together in a hot and lusty exchange of breath and tongue. Killian wrapped his arms around her, splaying his hands wide over the soft leather of his jacket still draped over her shoulder, grasping at the buttery material before sliding one hand up to the back her neck, kneading the base of her skull so he could position it in a way that allowed him to deepen the kiss.

Emma’s moan vibrated against his tongue while her hands dipped down to tuck themselves into the back pockets of his jeans, gripping his ass and pulling a groan from him as his hips involuntarily rocked forward. Her gasp cut off the kiss, leaving them both wrecked and breathless, foreheads pressed together with their eyes closed so they could savor the moment. When Killian’s eyes fluttered open, her kiss swollen lips beckoned to him, but he had enough sense to put a modicum of space between them, anchoring his hands to her hips so they couldn’t wander her body as they desired.

“When can I see you again?” he murmured, dangerously close to her lips. The flick of her tongue over her own nearly meeting his.

“You’ll see me Thursday at your set,” she told him, breathlessly.

Killian’s head cocked to the side. “But your show doesn’t end until after we’ll already be on stage.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth, and God did he envy them for it. “Guess I’ll just be fashionably late,” she quipped, pressing one last quick kiss to the corner of his mouth while slipping her hands from his pockets. “Promise to save all the good stuff for the end? For me?”

“Aye, love,” he murmured. “I think the boys and I can manage that.” 

When she started to shrug out of his jacket, he reluctantly released his hold on her, so he could step back and give her room. After handing him back his coat, she punched in a code on the keypad under the doorknob, unlocking the door without having to use a key. _Clever_.

Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she gave him a soft smile before whispering, “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, love. See you soon.”

The soft glow from her entry where a light had clearly been left on for her by her housemates, illuminated her, making her hair glow and revealing the flush still present on her skin. 

“Oh, and Swan,” Killian said, catching her attention before she could close the door. “Happy birthday, love.”

She bit down on her lip again, and the flush deepening at her cheeks made him wish she had her own place. However, like her, he wanted whatever had sparked between them to be more than a one off, a different kind of fun than a simple one night stand. With a soft _thanks,_ the entryway light faded with the closing of her door, Swan’s eyes held to his own until the last possible moment. Killian reached up and pressed his fingers against his lips, a stuttering breath blowing past as he attempted to collect himself. In the span of a few short hours, Emma Swan had managed to knock him completely off kilter, and he’d never been so amenable to the idea of thoroughly losing his bearings.

Swinging his jacket over his shoulders, his hands shoved in his pockets, Killian made his way back to Wonderland with a fresh swagger in his steps. Unfortunately, before he could make it back to the entrance, a figure emerged from the shadows of the alley with a smug expression.

“I told you,” Walsh slurred, the alcohol pungent on his breath even from the distance Killian maintained. “I knew the cock teasing slut wouldn’t seal the deal with you either.”

Killian grit his teeth and fisted his hands, still tucked away in the pockets of his jacket. “You’re drunk, mate. Go home before you end up saying something about Emma I’ll make you regret.”

“Oh?” Walsh challenged, stepping up and shoving his hand against Killian’s shoulder. “What are you gonna do about it, tough guy? You can’t deny she played you, too.”

“Actually…” Killian smirked, his brow raising in a taunting fashion. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. No matter how hot the kiss is.”

“You’re lying,” Walsh spat. 

“Sorry, mate.” Killian shrugged. “I’ve said more than I should have already. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tab to settle and date to plan.”

The wink was probably what did it, the thing that sent the man into a rage, causing him to swing wildly at Killian. He managed to dodge the first, but the second connected with Killian’s jaw, and out of instinct he pulled his hands free from his pockets and laid Walsh out with a carefully honed left hook. 

“Damn it, Jones!” Robin’s voice echoed over the pavement as Killian assessed the damage done to his jaw and hand. “What did I say about that hand?”

His band mate was followed by the bar’s bouncer, Graham. Ruby had pointed him out to them earlier in the evening, apparently sharing an on again, off again relationship with the Irishman they hadn’t had much of chance to share pleasantries with. Given the way the brunette had been flirting with the bouncer during her shift, Killian had gathered their relationship was currently _on_. Graham sighed, looking down at the prone figure at Killian’s feet. When his gaze flicked up to Killian’s, the same expectant look Robin was giving present on his face, all Killian could do was shrug.

“He was asking for it.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there,” Graham muttered. “I’m just surprised Emma didn’t lay him out first.”

The suggestion of Swan punching Walsh, or anyone for that matter, in the face should not have affected Killian the way it was. Hoping to cover the necessity of adjusting his stance, Killian reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his wallet. Handing a few bills to Graham, he asked the man to call Walsh a cab then retreated back into the bar with Robin. 

Will was waiting in their corner booth, ready to give Killian fresh hell over the woman he had clearly become smitten over. Eager to point out the redness that bloomed at the tips of his ears when questioned about their parting, and the dreamy way he apparently breathed the word _Swan_.

“Bugger off,” Killian groused, not truly irritated with his friend. If the tables were turned, he’d be giving Will no quarter either.

“Seriously, though,” Robin said, finishing his pint so they could pay their tab. “When are you going to see her again?”

“She’s coming to The Poison Apple Thursday night,” Killian informed them, rubbing his hand over the scruff of his still aching jaw, biding his time before adding, “So… I need to discuss the set list with you guys.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love and thanks to Marta (snowbellewells) for coming up with the band's name!
> 
> My undying love to Krystal and Salem for their beta services!

* * *

Emma tipped her Uber driver and hurried out of the car, cursing how late she was. Of course tonight would have been the night their producer would keep them past curtain call for a big announcement. The night she was supposed to meet her friends so they could all watch _The Dashing Rapscallions_ ’, Killian’s band, perform at The Poison Apple. At this rate, she’d be lucky to catch the last few songs.

In the days since meeting Killian Jones, he’d become the main topic of conversation amongst her friends. Well, him and his band. Ruby had been relentless in her demand for every last juicy detail of their walk back to her house that night, which had spurred a myriad of questions from her housemates, friends, and, unfortunately, her brother, David. Curiosities piqued, they’d all insisted on coming to see his set, so she wasn’t at all surprised to find them all huddled around a few cafe tables halfway between the stage and the bar. She was also not at all surprised to see the throng of women pressed against the front of the stage ogling the sinfully attractive frontman strumming his guitar as he crooned into the microphone perched atop its stand.

Outfitted in a thin, black t-shirt that stretched wonderfully across the hard planes of his chest and tucked into an obscenely tight pair of black leather pants that laced up the front, Killian’s guyliner was on point, making the blue of his eyes pop even from beneath the fringe that had fallen over his forehead. He was all sex, leather, and smoulder, serving himself up with a tone of seduction that rolled off his tongue in a sultry timbre, the music of which radiated a dizzying desire throughout Emma’s entire body.

Fuck, was he hot.

One of her friends spotted her and flagged her over to the tables as the song came to an end. Impossibly, he must have heard her name being called out over the roar and whistles of the crowd, because she saw him scan the area around their tables, a broad smile pulling at his lips when his eyes found hers.

Setting his guitar on its stand, he wrapped his hands around the microphone and announced their final song for the night.

“It’s a cover you lot might recognize, by a gent named Adam Lambert.” A cheer went up within the crowd that made Killian chuckle. The deep resonance crackling through the speakers sent a ripple of wonder over Emma’s entire body. “It’s titled _Runnin’_ , and it's dedicated to someone with whom I’d like to do the exact opposite.”

Emma flushed at the way his gaze flicked over to her before Will counted them off, and that heat only deepened throughout the performance, sinking into the very core of her being. Though she had heard the song before, this time the lyrics resonated with her in a way they never had before. She could only surmise it was the way he poured out his own soul with every verse, as if they were a confession, a testimony of the pain he himself had walked through.

His hands continued to grip the microphone as he attested,

_Now I can't seem to breathe right_

_'Cause I keep runnin' runnin' runnin' runnin'_

_Runnin' runnin' runnin' runnin'_

_Runnin' from my heart_

Words Emma could relate to a little too well.

She picked up on the emotional strain in his silky voice when it punctuated,

_'Round and around I go_

_Addicted to the numb livin’ in the cold_

_The higher, the lower, the down, down, down_

_Sick of being tired and sick_

_And ready for another kind of fix_

_The damage is damning me down, down, down_

When the tempo kicked up, the bass drum taking over at the bridge, Emma could feel not only the deafening beat reverberate through her body but the rhythm of something else she connected with in Killian’s eyes as he held her gaze and professed,

_Oh, I’m coming alive_

_Oh, I’ll wake up now and live_

_Oh, I’m coming alive_

_A life that’s always been a dream_

_I’ll wake up now and live_

_I’ve been standing here my whole life_

_My heart’s beating faster_

_I know what I’m after_

Emma was breathless by the time the set ended, only vaguely aware of them thanking the crowd and waving as they exited behind stage. She was yanked out of her lust and longing induced stupor by a sharp tug on her arm from Ruby beside her.

“Holy. Shit,” her friend exclaimed with wide eyes. “They were amazing!” Taking in whatever expression was currently residing on Emma’s face, Ruby narrowed her eyes mischievously and a smirk lifted at the corner of her lips. “You might want to see if they have something at the bar to catch all that drool,” she teased.

Emma rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the rest of their group. David and Graham were busy discussing some of their favorite bands, and which songs they themselves would cover if they were even remotely musically inclined. Mary Margaret, Elsa, and Belle were all eager to catch Emma up on the other songs she’d missed, with Ruby interjecting all the visuals she deemed necessary in order to give Emma the full picture; from the way Killian held his guitar and how deftly his fingers moved over the strings, to the way he moved his body, how it rocked and rolled to the rhythm of the beat, his hips speaking some sort of forbidden language Ruby felt it imperative that Emma learn first hand.

By the time Killian and his bandmates made it to their table (having been intercepted a few times by eager fans requesting autographs, selfies, and lord only knows what else), Emma had been fully debriefed on all she had missed.

“Hello, love,” Killian murmured into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. The producers called a cast meeting after curtain.”

“Everything alright?”

“Everything’s great, actually. Apparently some investors are coming to see the show this weekend, and there’s a possibility they might fund a national tour.”

Killian’s face lit up. “That’s brilliant news, Swan! Let me get us some drinks so we can celebrate.”

“I should introduce you to everyone first,” she said, halting his departure by grasping onto his arm. His very toned arm.

“No need,” he replied, “Ruby took care of that before our set. Brought everyone up to the stage as we were setting up.”

“Of course she did,” Emma muttered on an amused breath, only now noticing how easily Robin and Will had managed to enter into the discourse David and Graham were still engaged in… and how Will’s eyes kept slipping over to Belle.

“So, what will it be? Your usual martini, or the rum we both know you’ll steal from me anyway?” Killian asked with a cheeky smirk and lifted brow.

“Why don't you let me go get the drinks?” Emma insisted. “Given the amount of times you were accosted from the stage door to here, I’m not sure you’ll make it back from the bar in one piece. Much less with my beverage.”

Killian laughed at that, and Emma hoped the tiny bit of envy (okay, the giant jealousy monster. Whatever.) she was feeling wasn’t evident in her tone or expression. Fortunately, he relented, and some of Emma’s insecurities at seeing all the women in the bar devour him with their eyes were put to rest with the searing heat of his gaze following after her.

“Rum. Neat. Make it two,” Emma ordered when she finally caught the bartender’s attention.

“Rum? That’s not your usual.”

Emma froze at the sound of the voice coming from behind her. Peering over her shoulder, she uttered his name as though it were a curse. Because it was. “Neal? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he said, already pressing in too closely. “Isn’t Wonderland your normal haunt? That’s why Graham doesn’t let me in any more, right?”

Two tumblers were set down on the bar in front of her, and Emma wasted no time in handing cash over to the awaiting bartender so she could gather them up and get away from her ex before making a scene. Neal seemed to have other plans, made apparent by the way he refused to move out of her way.

“So, who are you here with?” he asked, jutting his chin towards the second tumbler in her hand.

“None of your business,” she snapped, pushing past him and others congregated around the bar.

When she finally managed to extricate herself from the crowd, she headed towards the cluster of cafe tables, her eyes decidedly fixed on Killian Jones, but the uncomfortable look on his face gave her pause until she heard Neal exclaim, “Killian _fucking_ Jones?!”

Emma glanced between the two men who were now aware of the other’s presence. Killian stood with a slight slump to his shoulders, a penitent look upon his face as Neal’s eyes shot daggers at him.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” Emma quipped as she handed a glass of rum to Killian with a curious and somewhat amused smirk.

Killian eyes softened when he shifted his gaze to hers, accepting the proffered glass with a soft, “Thank you, love.”

“Don’t call her that,” Neal spat through clenched teeth.

Killian responded with a resigned sigh as he dropped his head with an air of contrition. Clearly there was some bad blood between these two, but Emma could see the remorse that Killian felt over whatever their past issues were. Issues that, as far as she was concerned, were between Neal and Killian.

Emma had her own issues with Neal.

“Excuse me?” she countered, taking a step closer and getting in Neal’s face. “I think it’s up to me to decide how a man can or can not address me. _Not_ you.” Crossing her arms, she used her position to block Killian from Neal’s view. This wasn’t about Killian.

“Emma you don’t understand, you can’t trust that guy. He --” Neal began patronizingly. It wasn’t a plea, or a warning, but the beginning of a command. One Neal had no right in making.

“Oh, ho. Wow!” Emma exclaimed. “Trust? Really? That is _rich_ coming from you.” Moments ago she had wished to not make a scene. Now? Well, she was used to the attention of a crowd, and they were about to get a show.

“Tell me, Neal. How is Tamara? Has the morning sickness passed, yet? Have you found out the sex of _your baby_ , yet?” Now it was Emma’s tone dripping with hostility as she advanced toward him, backing him up with each accusatory question.

“Go away Neal, you’re going to kill my buzz.” She turned her back on him once again to join her friends, but Neal wouldn’t go away. Just as she was about to reach her spot at the table, Neal grasped her elbow and turned her back to face him. A move that put every man gathered around their tables on high alert, ready to intervene. Emma held her hand up to stop them. She could, _would_ , handle this.

“Emma, I’m not leaving you while _he’s_ here,” Neal declared as he nudged his head in Killian’s direction. “Killian is--”

Emma had had enough. Wrenching her arm out of Neal’s grasp, she put up her hand once more to stay whatever Neal was going to say.

“Neal. Whatever happened between you and Killian,” she began, gesturing between the two men, “is between you and Killian. I don’t care.” That last remark was addressed more to Killian, thrown his way with an earnest glance before she faced Neal again to continue on with a fair amount of scornful sass. “Although, the fact that he apparently did something to piss you off this badly, kinda makes me want to kiss him. Again.”

Neal’s face, which was already red with fury, was starting to turn a bit purple. Emma watched as he clenched and released his fists at his sides and wondered if maybe she’d gone too far with her last remark. Even if she did get a perverse sense of pleasure knowing that Killian had once done something awful to the man who had done something so awful to her.

“Emma, I’m just trying to look out for you,” Neal said, attempting to calm his aggravation enough to at least seem sincere.

She wasn’t buying it.

“Look around, Neal,” Emma said while waving her hands towards all her friends gathered. “I have plenty of people to look out for me. I don’t need you. I don’t _want_ you. Go home, Neal. Tamara needs you. _Your child_ needs you.” Emma turned her back on Neal one last time, and caught David’s eye as she did.

When Neal tried to approach her again, David cut him off with Graham only a step behind. Neal begrudgingly allowed David to escort him away from the group and (hopefully) to the exit.

Emma took a long sip from her rum glass before looking around at all her friends, and muttered, “Sorry, guys.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Emma,” Mary Margaret insisted.

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Neal’s an asshat. Nothing _you_ can do about that.”

Emma glanced over at Killian who was gripping his glass of untouched rum tightly. A sense of shame and embarrassment radiated off his demeanor, prompting her to cover one of his hands with her own. The action seemed to startle him, jerking his head up to meet her gaze with a look of apprehension in his eyes.

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked him, which caused a flicker of surprise to pass through his eyes and tighten between his brow.

“Aye, love.” A soft smile lifted at the corners of his mouth, but didn’t quite reach his forget-me-not gaze. “I’d like that very much.” Letting go of his drink, he allowed her to thread their fingers together before inquiring of Robin, “Can you and Will manage the equipment without me?”

“Go,” Robin waved off. “We’ll likely store it in the back since we have that meeting here this weekend.”

Killian nodded, and they both said their good-byes to everyone before slipping out the backdoor (in case Neal was camped out in front), heading to Killian’s truck parked in the employee section of the back parking lot. Emma hoisted herself up onto the bench seat after he opened the door for her, then reached over to unlock his side of the vintage truck. A moment later, they were pulling out onto the main road with no clear destination in mind.

“I’m sorry about Neal,” Emma said after too many long, silent minutes.

“As Mary Margaret said, you don’t have to apologize for him, Swan,” Killian assured her. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing for his behavior at the bar. I’m the reason he--”

“No,” Emma interrupted. “He would have made a scene no matter what. Ruby’s right. He’s an asshat and can’t help himself.”

That managed to coax a smile from him, his eyes briefly flicking over towards her as he draped his arm across the back of the seat. Emma accepted the implied invitation and scooted closer, buckling herself into the middle of the seat so she could lean into his side. Head resting in the space between his chest and shoulder, Emma settled into the quiet of the cab, all the tension and awkwardness that had followed them from the bar dissipating the farther they drove.

When he turned down the road that led to the lookout point just outside of town, Emma quirked a brow and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Lover’s lane, huh?”

His arm shifted as he reached back to scratch behind his ear. “I, uh… thought it would be a good place where we could be alone and talk.”

Emma hummed with feigned suspicion, her eyes still peering up at him with a knowing glint “Talk, huh? I don’t think that’s what people usually do when they come up here. How did you know about this place anyway?”

“I told you, love,” he replied, backing into one of the spots that overlooked the town and putting the truck in park. “I lived here during uni.”

“Right.” Emma unbuckled and followed him out of the cab, but not before he reached behind the seat and produced a blanket which he then used to line the bed of the truck with, giving them a cozy place to recline and enjoy the view. “How many other girls have you brought up here?”

“Believe it or not, you are the first,” he told her, and the sincere look in his eyes told her the answer was an honest one. That, and the way he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss along the backs of her knuckles as he murmured, “And you never forget your first.” An uncharacteristic giggle left Emma, and she sank her teeth down into her bottom lip once more. “What about you?” he inquired with a small note of something that might have been jealousy behind his teasing tone. “You knew right where we were. Been up here with another beau, have you?”

“Actually, um...” He must have sensed what her answer would be with the way his face fell and his shoulders tightened. “Neal and I used to come up here… Before he cheated on me.”

His eyes snapped up to hers with an expression of utter incredulity upon his face. “He what?”

“Yup,” she confirmed, knowing he didn’t actually need her to repeat herself. “Knocked up his piece on the side, so she showed up at our apartment one day to let him know he wasn’t going to get out of taking responsibility. That’s how I found out they’d been sleeping together.”

“What a bloody bastard. I’m so sorry, Swan. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know. I ended it right then and there. Packed my stuff and left him with the full rent on a place he couldn’t afford on his own, thankful I’d never signed the lease.” Meeting his consoling gaze, she was grateful it didn't hold any of the pity her friends’ sometimes still held to this day. Nudging him with her shoulder she asked, “What about you? How did he screw you over?”

His tell of scratching behind his ear made another appearance as he let out a deep exhale. “I’m afraid it was the other way round between Neal and myself,” he began with a heavy dose of regret in his tone. “We were mates back in college. Both of us on the same sailing team. We were close. Roommates, teammates. He was my best friend.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she shifted her position, crossing her legs beneath her and placing a supportive hand on his thigh while assuring him, “You don’t have to go into it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I… I think it best you know,” he covered her hand with his and held her gaze with a vulnerability she hadn’t been prepared to see from him, “so you have a clear idea of what you’re getting into if this thing between _us_ goes further.”

“If?” she inquired on a soft stirring of hope.

“That’s up to you, Swan,” he said, his eyes drinking in every inch of her face, leaving Emma a tad breathless. “I’ve already decided, whatever may come, I’m in this for the long haul, but only if that’s what you want too.”

Emma couldn’t seem to pull a proper breath into her lungs. She knew he had to have been thinking of the potential tour he and his band had on the horizon. The possibility that they may not have much time to explore whatever this thing was between them had been at the forefront of Emma’s mind over the last several days as well, complicated further by the news she’d received that very evening. Still, knowing their time together was limited, Emma had wondered if he’d be willing to see it through anyway, even to the point of engaging in a long distance romance. Something she hadn’t quite determined whether she would be up for herself, until hearing the confirmation of his feelings on the matter.

Emma wet her lips and glanced up at him with a coy look from beneath her lashes. “Well then, I guess you better tell me what happened, so I know what I’m getting into. What got between you two?”

Killian gave her hand a tender squeeze of gratitude then inhaled deeply before answering, “A woman.”

Emma couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from her lungs. “What, did you steal his girlfriend or something?”

“No.” He broke off their eye contact and ran his tongue over his teeth before uttering, “His mother.”

Well, that wasn’t what Emma had expected to hear; the news effectively sobering her response. “Excuse me?”

“I assume, given you were in a relationship with him, you know Neal’s mother had an affair with another man before she died.”

“Are you saying yo-?”

“I was the other man,” he confirmed with a sorrowful nod. “I didn’t know Milah was Neal’s mother. She and I met in a bar off campus. I did know she was married, but… I didn’t really care.”

“Did you love her?”

“I cared for her,” he admitted. “And she for me, but I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say it was love. I wasn’t expecting her to leave her husband for me or anything. Being with her was a sort of adventure, but once I found out…”

“How did you find out?” She turned her palm up under his, lacing their fingers together in a show of continued support, sensing how difficult it was for him to relive the memories.

“Parent’s Day our Senior year.” After offering a small smile of thanks, he tilted his head back against the rear window of the cab and kept his gaze fixed on the dark sky above. “In the spring the school would host a day inviting the parents to come out and watch the races. When Neal introduced me to his parents, my heart stopped. I broke things off with Milah the next day.”

“How did she take it?”

“Quite well, actually. I told her how Neal had come to suspect that his mother was having an affair, and now that I knew I was the other man, I couldn’t go on knowing the pain it caused him. She said she understood, and my words must have resonated, because a week later she confessed to having an affair and left her husband.”

“Did she say it was you?” Killian shook his head, his focus still trained on the night sky. “How did Neal find out, then?”

“When I broke things off, Milah gave me a charm pendant she always wore. Said she wanted me to have it to remember her by. A few weeks later, Neal found it when he was looking for something in my room. Faced with his direct questioning, I couldn’t lie to him. He moved out of our apartment later that day, and didn’t speak to me unless it was absolutely necessary after that.”

“And she died a couple of months later, right?”

“Aye,” Killian sighed out a sorrowful breath. “Car accident on the way home from our graduation.” Lowering his head, Emma felt his hand clench her own for a fraction of a second as his eyes now stared down at some invisible spot past the bed of the truck. “I think it made him hate me even more.”

“Why?” Emma shifted her position again, attempting to put his attention back on her. When he continued to stare off, trapped in the memory, Emma cupped his face with her free hand and gently coaxed it her way. “It wasn’t your fault.”

The look on Killian’s face told her that he felt otherwise, that he had been harboring this guilt for nearly a decade.

“Before she left the ceremony,” he continued with a strained tone. “She made a point to come over and congratulate me. Our interaction caused a fight between her and Neal’s father, and she left in a bit of a rage.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Killian.”

The soft brush of her thumb against the apple of his cheek finally seemed to reach him. He covered her hand with his, keeping it still as he turned his face into it and applying a soft kiss to the inside of her palm.

“I know,” he murmured. “I just wish Neal… I don’t fault him for his anger, and if having someone to blame makes dealing with his mother’s death easier, then who am I to begrudge him that.” He removed his hand from hers to toy with a section of her hair while she continued to drag her thumb over his stubble laden jawline. “The whole bloody mess just… I lost a woman I cared deeply for and one of my best mates in one fell swoop, and I wish there was something I could do to change it.”

Emma had no words of wisdom for him, no advice on how to repair the damage that had been done so many years ago, and if she were being honest, she really didn’t think he needed to bother. It was clear how much he regretted what happened, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he had tried to make it up to Neal long ago. If the man wasn’t willing to let go and forgive, that wasn’t on Killian. It didn’t change the fact that, “You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

At some point during her inner musings, she’d managed to climb onto his lap, straddling his hips with her forehead pressed against his.

“Thank you, love,” he replied with a slight lift of his brows scrunching against her own, displaying his surprise at her actions. “I take it,” he began, running his tongue over his lower lip and taking her waist in his hands, “that this means my confession has not deterred you from wishing to continue our association?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Emma teased before leaning in with a kiss to give him her actual response.

A soft moan vibrated against her lips and his hands slid up her back, one burying itself in the back of her hair as it kneaded the muscles of her neck and shoulders. Killian sat forward, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck, her grip tightening when he rolled them so her back lay against the plush blanket beneath them with him hovering over her. It was as his mouth began exploring the column of her throat that a shiver wracked her body, from both the eager sensation of anticipation as well as the cool night air.

“Are you cold, love?” he questioned into her skin.

She wanted to lie so they could continue on with these enjoyable activities, but she knew once her body started reacting to the cold she would just continue to shiver beneath him. A fact that was confirmed by another shudder, it and her silence effectively answering his inquiry.

“Perhaps it’s time I took you home.”

Emma wrapped her arms around him to stop him from pulling away and said, “I don’t want you to take me home.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she silenced him with another press of her lips then murmured, “I want you to take me back to your place.”

A wide grin stretched across his face and he nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers before purring, “As you wish.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

“You own a boat?”

Killian smiled at the tone of awe and surprise in Emma’s voice.

“I lease it, actually,” he told her, pulling on the tie line in order to bring the vessel closer to the dock. “The charter company I worked for while at uni owns it. I’ve kept in touch with the owner, Mr. Smee, over the years, so when I came back he offered the use of it to me in exchange for doing some odd jobs and leading the occasional tour. It allows me to earn a bit of extra cash while keeping my schedule flexible for the band.”

Once he was confident with the boat’s position, he stepped aboard and turned back to Emma who was patiently waiting on the dock with a sly smirk on her lips.

“Do I have your permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Killian pulled her up on deck and into his arms. Hitching his brows at her, he purred, “It will be my _pleasure_ to have you come whilst aboard, love.”

Emma’s laugh echoed over the water, harmonizing with his deep chuckle before he led them below. It was a tight fit, with only enough room for them to stand single file rather than side by side. As soon as Emma made her way off the last step, he positioned her in front of him, snaking his arms around her waist and guiding them through the space towards the back of the boat.

“Allow me to give you the grand tour,” he whispered in her ear. “These are the living quarters,” Prompting her forward a few steps, they paused. “Here be the galley.” Another few steps forward and Killian could feel Emma’s mirth shaking in her shoulders. “On your left is the head.” Without letting go of her waist, he used his foot to push open the door blocking their path. “And finally, the bed.”

Once over the threshold, he capitalized on the extra space afforded them within the sleeping quarters and turned her back around to face him. Running her hands up his chest, a coy smile bloomed over her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair.

“A thorough and succinct tour,” she praised. “I can see why Mr. Smee keeps you around.”

“Well, I find customers tend to want to get to the good stuff and aren’t much fussed with the logistics.”

“The good stuff, huh?” she said, flicking her eyes up at him through her lashes while her hands made their way back down his chest and tugged the hem of his shirt free from his pants. “What sort of _good stuff_ do you offer on these tours?”

He waited to respond until his shirt cleared his head, swallowing back a moan at the feel of her fingers skimming over his abs and twirling through the hair that littered his torso.

Moving his hands to the front of her waistband, he popped open the button of her jeans then slowly lowered the zipper. “We do the occasional tastings,” he answered in a low, seductive timbre. “Wine, cheese… exotic elixirs.”

Emma gasped and her hands shot up to his shoulders, bracing herself against them with a tight grip when he slipped his fingers beneath her underwear to where she was already so hot and wet for him. With another groan, Killian curled his fingers, coating them thoroughly before pulling his hand back out. An indignant whimper left Emma’s lips and his amused response had her staring him down with a withering look. When he opened his mouth, drawing his slick covered fingers inside and sucking them clean, her lips parted and her pupils blew wide with desire.

“I thought it was the customers who got to enjoy the tastings,” she remarked in a strained tone.

“Forgive me, love,” he answered, holding firm with a heated gaze of his own. “But I’ve wanted a taste of you since the moment I saw you in that sinful red dress the night we met.”

Killian’s cock twitched and he hummed appreciatively when she cupped him through his leather trousers before she confessed, “I may have been imagining myself on my knees in front of you while you performed in front of that crowd tonight.”

Something akin to a growl rumbled through Killian’s chest as Emma sank down to her knees, her hands working at the laces of his pants. He pulled her back up, tossing her onto his bed with a protest on her lips. Grasping the ends of each leg of her jeans, Killian tugged hard, causing the fabric to slip down her hips, taking her underwear with it.

“As a gentleman,” he stated, “I must insist, ladies first.”

Emma wriggled herself out of her jeans enough for him to remove them completely, but then sat up before he could make his way onto the bed.

“If we’re talking about who gets to taste whom, then I’ll happily go first. So, take those damn, tight ass leather pants off, Jones.”

Killian did as he was told, his gaze sweeping over her hungrily as she took the opportunity to divest herself of her shirt and bra, leaving them both gloriously bare.

And at a bit of an impasse.

“Might I offer the suggestion of a compromise?” Killian said, crawling his way onto the bed and barely skimming his lips over hers.

“What did you have in mind?” she whispered back, her hands gliding up the backs of his thighs and over his ass.

“Ladies choice,” he purred. “Would you rather be the six… or the nine?”

A soft _oof_ whooshed from Killian’s lungs when Emma shoved him onto his back. A wide grin stretched across her face, matching the one he felt pulling at his own lips before she swung her leg over and obscured it. The smell of her overwhelmed his senses, and his mouth watered at the sight of her glistening sex before his tongue flicked out to trace the outline of her folds.

A soft moan echoed from above as Emma draped herself along the length of his body. His hips jerked when she wrapped her hand around him, and he moaned against her clit when he felt the damp heat of her tongue lave a long line from the base of his length to the tip. A muffled _fuck_ groaned from his chest when she took him fully into her mouth, her fingers toying with the sensitive area behind his balls.

Not to be outdone, Killian focused his attention on Emma’s pleasure, swirling his tongue over her clit and giving it a quick graze with his teeth as he slid his hands over her thighs. The vibrations of her sounds over his cock made his toes curl, the reverberations intensifying when his tongue thrust itself inside her, plundering her core as deeply as he could manage. Slipping a hand between their bodies, he applied pressure to her clit with the pad of his thumb while attempting to ignore the tightening in his groin as Swan’s mouth continued to do sinful things to his cock.

Indecent wet smacks and slurps, as well as guttural noises filled the room. When at last his ministrations proved to be too much for Emma to remain focused on her own, Killian implored, “Forget about me, love. Just take the pleasure I’m offering.”

Sharp, crescent shaped pricks embedded themselves into the tops of his thighs, and Emma released him with a soft pop, her pants adding to the symphony of sounds. Killian grunted when her nails retracted from his skin, her hands aiding her into an upright position as they walked back up his body before planting themselves against his chest. The swivel of her hips and the dirty grind she employed against his face as she took control, throwing her head back and repositioning her hands to brace them against the low ceiling over his bed made his cock bounce against his belly.

Tracing the sides of her body, Killian’s hands moved upward until each of her breasts rested within his palms. Another round of moans fell from Emma’s lips as he kneaded their heft and twisted the hardened peaks between his fingertips, all the while continuing his assault on her clit with a mixture of rough grazes, appreciative hums, and quick flutters of his tongue.

Her thighs began to tremble and tightened against his head. Her back arched and a cry of pleasure tore from her chest as a wash of tangy satisfaction coated his tongue and lips, smearing itself through the stubble on his chin as he lapped up every drop. Gently, he guided her off his face when she started to move so she could collapse onto her back beside him. Her chest heaved and a contented smile rested upon her lips as she looked up at him with hooded eyes, crooking her finger and beckoning him to her.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to refuse her.

Crawling his way up her body, he paused here and there to kiss, lick, and nip at her flushed flesh, paying special attention to her breasts and drawing out another string of sensual sounds from her.

“I swear to God, if you’re not inside me in ten seconds…”

Killian chuckled at her impatience, sitting back on his heels between her splayed thighs so he could retrieve a condom from his nightstand. His already hard length became even more painfully rigid under her watchful gaze as he rolled on the protection. When he lined himself up at her entrance and sank into the welcoming heat of her core their eyes never wavered from the other’s.

“Christ,” Killian cursed, pulling back only to sink in deeper with each measured thrust. “You feel incredible,” he murmured against her lips. “So soft, so hot, so tight.”

Emma’s nails scratched over his scalp then clawed their way down his back, her hands grabbing his ass and squeezing tightly as her back arched off the bed. Flames of desire licked up Killian’s spine and mingled with the burn left behind by her nails. Her pants, heavy in his ear as her breath ghosted over its shell, sent a shudder through him.

“Tell me more,” she gasped breathlessly. “Tell me more about what you wanted to do to me the night we met.”

Killian groaned at her request, the languid slides of his cock becoming more assertive, more aggressive as he growled into the slope of her neck.

“Even before Ruby’s mishap with your zipper, I wanted to tear your dress off you and bend you over the pool table. Take you in front of the whole bar, so the men who’d been eyeing you all night would know who you belonged to.”

Any concern he might have had that his possessive words might be a turn off for her, were alleviated when a moaned, _god yes_ , fell from her lips and her grip on his ass tightened.

Hitching her legs a bit further up his hips, Killian adjusted the angle and force of his thrusts while continuing to confess, “And when that fucker showed up trying to lay claim to you, I wanted to take you against the wall next to the dart board and show him the _true meaning_ of hitting the bull’s eye.”

“There!” Emma cried out, when he hit the mark. “Right there! Dear God, don’t stop!”

_Not a chance in hell_ , he thought, hammering his hips against hers. Glorying in the sounds she made as she hurtled towards release, Killian was only vaguely cognizant of his own curses and filthy utterances while the coiling sensation at the base of his spine intensified. When Emma’s walls clenched around him, her back arching off the bed and her head thrown back in ecstasy, Killian couldn’t stop the force of his own orgasm ripping through him as he filled the condom with hot stuttering spurts while buried deep inside his Swan.

Mindful to stay braced on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight, Killian waited several moments to try and get his breathing under control before opening his eyes to gaze down on the ravishing woman beneath him. She was stunning, with her hair fanned out in soft tangles, the rosy flush glowing off her skin, and her pouty lips, swollen from his kisses and the bite of her teeth. He wanted to run his tongue over the imprint left behind on the tender flesh, but got distracted by the shimmer of perspiration collected in the hollow of her throat. Dipping his tongue into the salty brine of her skin caused her pelvic muscle to clench around him, nearly expelling him from the haven he had no intentions of withdrawing from just yet.

“Careful, love,” he murmured into her neck. “Keep that up, and I just might have to take you again.”

A gasping groan rushed over his lips when she squeezed him again, but was followed by a curse when his cock slipped from her completely. Emma’s chest shook with a suppressed giggle as she watched him leave the bed to attend to the condom before it could make a mess. When he returned, she held out her hand, welcoming him back. Instead of allowing him to wrap her in his arms for a bit of a cuddle, he found himself on his back with her straddling his hips, his wrists caught in her hands above his head.

“This time,” she purred down at him, sultrily, “I’ll be the one doing the taking.”

“You’ll hear no complaint from me,” he said before her lips crashed against his.

Later, both spent and snuggled together in the warmth and comfort of Killian’s bed, he asked her to stay.

“I’ll take you home if that’s what you’d prefer, but I would really like it if you’d stay.”

Emma tilted her head to look up at him, a sleepy smile gracing her lips as her fingers caressed the stubble along his jaw. “I think I’m perfectly fine right here,” she told him, her fingers moving from his face, down his neck, and briefly swirling through his chest hair before her hand came to rest over his heart. “I think I quite like you, Killian Jones.”

Killian tightened his embrace and nuzzled his face in her hair, murmuring, “I _know_ I quite like you, Emma Swan,” before placing a kiss behind her ear.

~/~

Emma rolled away from the intruding rays of early morning sunshine making their way through the curtains. The gentle sway of Killian’s boat almost had her lulled back to sleep until her arm stretched out and found his side of the bed empty. Pushing her unruly hair out of her face, Emma raised up and peered around the room then down the passageway that led from the bedroom to the stairs up to the deck.

“Killian?” she called out, her voice thick from the sated slumber she’d enjoyed after being thoroughly ravished (and doing a fair bit of her own in return) by the man quickly becoming more than just a different kind of fun than she was used to.

With protesting muscles, and the pleasant ache radiating from places long neglected before last night, Emma found her underwear and shimmied them up her legs before grabbing Killian’s discarded shirt and slipping it over her head.

“Killian?” Gently knocking on the bathroom door, she found it as empty as the rest of the boat then heard raised voices coming from outside.

Making her way up on deck, she found Killian standing on the dock, a cozy pair of flannel pants slung low on his hips but no shirt to protect him from the bite of the morning chill. In addition to his state of undress, she was shocked to discover him engaged in an argument with Neal of all people. How the hell had he known where to find them?

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” she demanded, making her way over to the side of the boat and glaring down at the offending man.

Killian’s head whipped around at the sound of her voice and Neal’s face became thunderous. When Killian turned back to face him, he was greeted with Neal’s fist connecting with his jaw, knocking him sideways.

“Neal!” Emma shouted. Completely undeterred by her own lack of decency, Emma bounded off the boat and ran to where the men were grappling with one another on the boards of the pier.

“I’m not going to fight you, Neal,” Killian stated after another blow split his lip, forcing him to spit blood out of the side of his mouth.

Emma grabbed Neal’s shoulders and wrenched him off of Killian. “Where the hell do you get off?” she seethed, placing herself between the two men while reaching back to offer Killian a hand up off the ground. “What gives you the right--”

“I told him to stay away from you, only to see you come out looking like...” Neal gestured up and down her body, his anger evident in the mottled red hues tinting his features.

Emma took a step forward and lifted her chin. “Like what?” she challenged. “Like I might have actually had a good time last night? Like I might have actually been with a man who knows how to please a woman? A man who can go three rounds, giving me mind blowing, toe curling orgasms - _plural_ \- without hardly any recovery time for himself in between? Is that what I look like, Neal?” she goaded. “It should be, because that’s _exactly_ what happened last night. Not that it is _any_ of your damn business!”

“Swan,” Killian said softly, pulling her back towards him and wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Neal,” he told the still furious man before them. “But I won’t apologize for the way I feel about Emma, nor for my intentions in continuing to see her.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Emma spat. “He has no right to be angry about this. No right to think he gets any say in who I spend time with.” Jabbing a finger in Neal’s direction, she reminded him, “You lost any right you might have had regarding my actions when you decided to sleep with someone else. In. Our. Bed!”

“Emma, just hear me out,” Neal insisted.

“No! I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

“Well, I am,” an angry voice sounded from farther down the dock. Emma’s eyes widened when she noticed who the voice belonged to.

“T-Tamara?” Neal stammered guilty. “What are you… how did you know I was…”

The woman held up her phone and shook it. “Tracker app.”

Neal balked. “You tracked my phone?”

Tamara crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a brow at him. “Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’, “And it looks like I was right to.” Her dark eyes flicked over to Emma’s, a sad apology glimmering there before she turned her ire back onto Neal.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Neal said. “I’m not here because of Emma, I’m here because of Killian. He--”

Tamara held up her hand, tears shimmering in her eyes as she shook her head. “Actually, I changed my mind,” she told him with a small sob choking in the back of her throat that made Emma’s heart ache for the woman.

Emma had been just as angry at Tamara as she had been at Neal when she first learned of his infidelity, even though it had been apparent when the woman showed up on their doorstep that she hadn’t known about Emma any more than Emma had known about her. Eventually, she’d come to see Tamara as a casualty of Neal’s actions as much as she had been, and had sought her out to let her know that, wishing her the best in whatever she chose to do moving forward. They were never going to be friends, but Emma wouldn’t have wished her circumstances on anyone.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Neal,” Tamara declared. “You can tell your father, I don’t care how many lawyers he throws at me. You _are_ going to provide for this child, but neither he nor I want anything else to do with you. Goodbye, Neal.”

Tamara marched her way back up the dock while Neal’s head volleyed between her retreating form and the place where Emma and Killian still stood together with their arms wrapped around each other.

“This isn’t over,” he sneered before rushing after Tamara, begging her to stop and listen.

Anger and cold rippled over Emma’s skin, causing her to shiver against Killian’s side.

“Come on, love,” Killian rasped, a hiss falling from his split lip. “Let’s get you back inside and warmed up.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off, getting a good look at his split lip and beginnings of a black eye. “You’re the one who needs tending to. That’s gonna be some shiner.”

“This is nothing in comparison to the arse kicking Robin’s gonna give me later,” Killian groused. “Once he gets a look at my eye, I’ll never hear the end of his nagging.”

Placing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, Emma said, “I might be able to help with that.”


End file.
